The Three Of Us
by The Goliath Beetle
Summary: For the Bad Touch Trio, friendship is a precious thing, a bond to be guarded fiercely, to be constantly tended to. One night after a stressful world meeting, Spain reminisces over his relationship with his two best friends. -A BTT friendship one-shot-


It's a quiet, after-work sort of bar, which is a rarity for them. Spain knows his two best friends. He knows how much they like parties, clubs, and really, Spain likes them too. But this is also nice. A comfortable place after a long day. Spain's green tie is loose, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. France doesn't have his tie anymore, and has draped his blazer behind his chair, drinking Merlot or Syrah or Pinot Noir, or something equally fancy, sighing as he takes each sip, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Prussia, meanwhile, isn't formally dressed. He doesn't actually attend world meetings, but he tags along with Germany anyway. He's just wearing a t-shirt with the name of some German music group on it, an acquisition from last year's Oktoberfest. He keeps chugging his beer, one can, two, three, and laughing as he tells some story about his rivalry with Hungary back in the day.

And Spain closes his eyes for a moment, an odd sort of melancholy filling him up. Maybe he's a little drunk, maybe it's the nostalgic tone to Prussia's otherwise high-spirited voice, or perhaps it has something to do with France's drawn, grey skin as he tries to quip and make sexual innuendos where they aren't required.

"We're so old," Spain suddenly blurts, and it's such a random comment that Prussia stops in his tracks and France raises an eyebrow.

"True," Prussia says after a beat, and then adds, "But no-one's older than Big Brother Franny over here."

"Franny," Spain laughs at the ridiculous nickname, and France rolls his eyes.

"Something on your mind, _cher_?" France asks Spain, because Francis always been a perceptive, intuitive person, and Spain knows he's not being half as chirpy as he usually is.

But they're _so old_, and this realisation has hit Spain squarely between the eyes. Of course, he's always known they've been around for centuries, each of them having long, complicated, bloody histories. All nations in the world are like that, though. Their lives are dotted with war, strife, economic collapse. Or perhaps it seems that way, because people always tend to remember the bad things better than the good things.

And so Spain remembers his countless wars with France. They'd been friends, even back then, but the Spanish Crown and the French Crown didn't like each other, and of course there was competition, trade routes, imperialism, colonies to capture, art to produce-and so they fought. Those had been dark times for Spain. His empire had made him, Antonio, too powerful, too evil. It was so difficult to remember how the two of them knew each other's embarrassing secrets, crazy dreams; it was so difficult to remember how much they laughed when they were together.

But they managed to make it work. After the War of Spanish Succession, Spain came under France's rule, and though he'd resented it for his pride, the two of them had also had a lot of fun together. Then one day, Prussia came over and asked them if they wanted to fight Austria. The Seven Year's War, or the War of Austrian Succession. Hanging out with the two of them on _friendly political terms _had been such a new experience. Such a wonderful experience.

Of course, alliances in Europe were fickle, and theirs fell apart. But they still maintained their friendship. Even when they were fighting each other. They somehow clung onto their friendship, sometimes by threads.

France and Prussia fought too, all the time. It was unfair to call Prussia a war-monger. Prussia had to fight. His survival had depended on it. Napoleon came along, and then the German Unification. France had never forgiven Prussia for his acquisition of Alsace-Lorraine, and when the First World War broke out, things came to a head.

Both France and Prussia had dragged him into their Franco-Prussian, during the German Unification. Spain had been too poor, too servile to resist. So he'd watched as global politics unfolded in front of him, and when Prussia won against France, Spain had gone to a bar and drunk himself into oblivion. But at least now there was peace. Now, they could forget their stupid rivalries and move on.

But France's wounds still hurt, and there had been so much tension. The First World War saw France and Prussia at it again, except this time, things felt different. Spain wanted to join in, but he was too poor, too unstable. Spain wanted to step in as mediator and say, "Stop it, you two are _friends_!" Despite their wars in the past, the three of them had tried their best to remember that they were _amis, amigos, freunde_. The Great War had shattered that.

And then of course, was the Spanish Civil War. And while Spain suffered and wept and begged for the agony to end, he knew that Prussia and France were _both _partly responsible for it. And oh, Spain had _so _resented them. For entering his country, picking two opposite sides, and blowing each other apart. What right did they have to do that? If there was to be a civil war, it was Spain's to deal with, Spain's alone.

World War Two's demands were also insane. Spain had never been this poor, this traumatised before. Prussia had wanted Spain to join the fight. Be an Axis power. _"After all, Germany and I helped you during your civil war, didn't we? It's the least you can do." _And had Spain been a powerful empire, he would have screamed and punched Prussia in the jaw. He would have told Prussia to stop it, stop the madness. Yes, Spain was also Fascist now, but Prussia was tearing the world apart, tearing _the Bad Touch Trio _apart. But instead, he'd just swallowed his rage, his resentment, his loneliness, and said, _"Thanks for the offer, but really, I'm too poor."_

So Spain just watched from the sidelines. France—dear old France—fell to the German offence, and France had begged Spain. _"Give refuge to my Jews, Antonio, please. Save the Jews from Germany and…"_ his voice had cracked, and Spain could hear the hurt of betrayal in it. _"Germany and Prussia," _France had finished. And Spain had sighed. How could he choose between his friends? How could he choose? Sympathise with Prussia? Well sure, Franco was a dictator too. But what about the Jews? _"Of course, I'll protect them," _Spain had promised.

In 1945, burnt to the ground, the German empire had collapsed. And France had betrayed Prussia in much the same way Prussia had betrayed France.

"_Dissolve Prussia," _France had roared to the other members of the Allied Council. _"Prussia is poison. Dissolve it. Take Gilbert's country away from him."_

And both Spain and Prussia had watched in horror. The Bad Touch Trio was finished.

Those were very sad times for Antonio. Oh sure, he hadn't suffered as much in WWII, but his friends—_the trio_— were gone. It was easy to put the blame on France for demanding Prussia's dissolution so vehemently. It was also easy to blame Prussia for having become such a brute.

But now that Prussia was behind a wall, and France was rebuilding his country, Spain also started to blame himself. If he'd just done something different, said something different, maybe things wouldn't have turned out this badly. Spain and France spoke occasionally. They never mentioned Prussia. It was too painful.

In 1989, the wall fell. Prussia emerged, scarred, jumpy, terrified, but somehow, amazingly, alive. Spain's Francoist era had come to an end, and he now had a fledgling democracy. France was doing rather well, and when the three of them met for the first time, nobody said anything.

And then Prussia collapsed in a heap, sobbing, begging for forgiveness. France went next, falling to his knees, hugging his friend, apologising over and over and over again for the dissolution. And Spain just watched, astounded, at the sight before him. The two of them pulled away after ten minutes, and asked Spain to join the group hug.

Spain, too, wept that day. He was embracing his two best friends again. The world wasn't half as dangerous as it used to be.

* * *

><p>Prussia, in his low moments, insists on being called Gilbert, because Prussia doesn't exist anymore. Because Prussia is poison. France, however, almost always calls him by his country name. Spain knows Prussia appreciates it. Spain's old scuffles with France are history—literally. Although when he gets angry sometimes, he still resents the both of them for the Spanish Civil War, for World War Two, for making him feel so torn apart and conflicted, in every possible meaning of the terms.<p>

France doesn't like to talk to Prussia during important World War commemoration ceremonies, but Prussia always picks up the phone and rings in to say, "Hi, Franny, is there something I can do for you?" He never uses the word 'awesome' on those days.

And when the two of them fight, they never turn to Spain to say, "Toni, will you tell him he's wrong?" because they know Spain's had enough of it, thank you very much. But when Spain does give his two cents—"France, Prussia, this is a stupid argument. Shut up"—they usually listen.

If they ever argue, that is.

All three of them are careful. If tensions are boiling over, if any one of them is angry, the other two just back off and be as helpful as they can until their friend is in a better mood. On some level, they're too afraid to fight each other anymore.

But if they do ever have a disagreement, Spain's not going to get _too _worried. After all, the Bad Touch Trio has survived thousands and thousands of wars, including two global conflicts that should have utterly destroyed their friendship. Whatever it is, they'll be fine. They just have to be careful.

This friendship is precious. It has been through terrible, terrible times, extreme difficulties. Their politics have been mutually aggressive for too long, too darn long. Now, when Europe is (mostly) at peace, the three of them just want to sit back, have a drink, and be _amis, amigos, freunde._

So when France raises an eyebrow and asks, "Something on your mind, _cher_?" Spain just smiles.

"I love you guys," he says, and he knows how random the statement is, and how serious he sounds.

Prussia and France stare at him for a bit, at his uncharacteristically grave tone. And then Prussia throws his head back and guffaws. France's eyes soften towards Spain, and then towards Prussia. He pushes the rest of his wine towards the former. "Have a drink, Toni."

And Spain takes France's half-full glass and takes a long sip.

Prussia stops laughing, but his eyes are still crinkling with humour.

France is looking so lovingly at the two of them.

And it's nice. This level of comfort, this sort of warmth.

Spain finishes France's wine, and Prussia says, "Yes, we _are _old, aren't we?" and though his smile has diminished, there is that nostalgic fondness in his eyes.

"Old and wise," France agrees.

"No, but I really, really love you guys," Spain presses.

The two of them start laughing—France too, this time—and Spain laughs with them.

It's a good feeling, knowing that they've survived so much. It's even better to know that they've passed their tests, and now, they can just relax and sit around in quiet bars after long, stressful world meetings.

Just the three of them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I wrote this because it suddenly occurred to me how ridiculous the canon idea of the BTT is. Don't get me wrong, I **_**love **_**the BTT. But I know that (historically), France and Spain **_**hated **_**each other. During Napoleon's era, France handed Prussia a **_**humiliating **_**defeat, and the Prussians allied with the English (and other powers) at Waterloo to bring France down. And then we have the German Unification, in which Prussia takes important French territory. In the two World Wars, the German/Prussian army gave France hell, and France came back with a vengeance in the Treaty of Versailles (after WWI), and let's not forget that **_**France **_**was most vehemently supporting the dissolution of Prussia.**

**Meanwhile, Spain's perpetually caught in between. After the War of Spanish Succession, the French Bourbons took control of the Spanish crown, and ever since then, Spain was like (pardon my language) France's little bitch. The War of Austrian Succession is where Hetalia shows the Bad Touch Trio for the first time. In this strip, France is Spain's 'Boss'. And in fact, Spain's contribution wasn't as important to the war as France's was. During the Spanish Civil War, France supported the Republicans, and the German Empire (which included Prussia) supported the Nationalists. During World War Two, Spain was a Fascist nation with Axis sympathies, but Franco never wanted to enter the war, and actually did a lot to protect Jews from many countries, including France. **

**In fact, the history of these countries in relation with each other is so complicated, that I almost thought the BTT wasn't technically 'canon'. But they have a group song, too, so in Hetalia, they clearly are best friends. Which is great. I love them. But can you imagine how complex a friendship that could be? **

**Anyway, thanks for reading. Please review! **


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